


Jared Padalecki, #1 Jerk

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Humor, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is jealous.  Neener neener.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jared Padalecki, #1 Jerk

Underneath the infectious laughter and the octopus arms and the Zoolander poses, Jared Padalecki is sort of a dick. Jensen thinks maybe Jared suffers from accidental assholery, but as Chris would say, “Road to hell, son. Intentions ain’t nothing. It’s what you do that counts.” So, yeah. Even if Jared doesn’t mean to be a jerk, he still kind of is.

Jared is never downright mean or cruel; it’s the little things. Jared is selfish and manipulative and he’s been using his good looks to get what he wants for far too long to can that shit with the people he's closest to. He cheats at cards and he doesn't refill the ice cube trays EVER and he actually listens to the words that spew forth from Chad's mouth. And number one on the scale of dickitude? Jensen is pretty sure that Jared has a crush on Misha Collins. Before Misha showed up, Jensen was willing to deal with Jared's personality flaws. Now, not so much.

"Morning, Misha," Jared says and smiles his biggest smile. Jensen is uncharitably reminded of those gigantic teeth with feet on them, the ones that wind up and clack and invariably break after three uses.

"Hey, Jared," Misha says, grinning back, their fingers brushing in the donut box, and Jensen is suddenly not hungry anymore.

In the segment they're shooting before lunch, Castiel threatens Sam, backs him into a corner and against a wall. The way Misha's playing it, there's not enough room to slide a credit card between him and Jared, so naturally, Kim wants to run the scene over and over again.

"It's not menacing enough," Kim says. "Closer, Misha. Really lean into him."

Jensen thinks that if the two of them get any nearer, they'll be dangerously close to filming network TV's first scene of frottage, but whatever. It's not like Jensen cares. 

"I'll be in my trailer," he says and just barely manages not to slam the door behind him. 

“I don’t care if Jared likes Misha,” Jensen says aloud to his PlayStation3. “I don’t. But he doesn’t really give a shit about the guy. Jared’s just dicking around. Yanking everybody’s chain. Doing that thing he does with the smiling and the teeth and the hugs. It doesn’t mean anything. He does it to me all the time.”

Jensen plays _Call of Duty_ until he’s needed on set and he doesn’t speak more than three words out of character until he and Jared are home and planted in front of the TV with take out. 

"What is up with you, man?" Jared says around a mouthful of chili fries. "You've been weird for days."

Jensen shrugs.

"Is something going on? You know you can talk to me, Jen. Any way I can help you, I will. I mean it. Always." Jared's face is so honestly concerned, so open and sincere, that Jensen wants to blush. He can feel the heat starting on the back of his neck, but Jensen tamps that shit down like Deidre Hall taught him back on the set of DOOL.

"Nah," Jensen says. "I'm good."

Jared raises an eyebrow like he doesn't believe him. Then he washes all the dishes piled up in the sink and lets Jensen control the remote all night and he falls asleep on the couch with his mouth open and one arm flung up over his head. Jensen watches Jared sleep while he polishes off the chili fries, Jared’s heavy breathing just this side of a snore. A possibly cute snore, if Jensen was the type to associate cute in any way with Jared Padalecki. Which he is not. These are the times that Jensen forgets entirely that Jared is actually an asshole.

Jared, however, is on a mission to continually remind Jensen of his dickish ways. “We’re throwing a party,” Jared says the next morning, slinging an arm around Jensen’s neck. “Chad’s coming to town and we’re throwing a party.”

Jensen still remembers Jared’s mouth slack in sleep and the little puddle of drool on the couch cushion which has clearly lulled him into a false sense of security because Jensen agrees even though he believes Chad Michael Murray should be pictured in the brochure for Depo Provera as the worst case scenario of failed birth control. So really, Jensen deserves what happens next.

It’s not until Jared opens the door and ushers Misha inside that Jensen realizes how stupid he’s been. Of course, Jared invited Misha. He invited the guy that bagged their beer in the package store and a random chick in the parking lot of the bank. Jensen forces a smile, slides a Red Stripe into Misha’s hand, and escapes to the bathroom to throw some water on his face.

This isn’t Misha’s fault, Jensen thinks. He’s a good guy, a funny guy. Jensen _likes_ Misha. Misha is just as much a victim of Jared’s assholery as Jensen is. Misha didn’t ask for the Pada-crush. He’s probably just as annoyed as Jensen.

Except, he’s totally not.

When Jensen comes out of the bathroom, he really wishes he’d stayed locked inside because he cannot believe what he sees. Misha finds every excuse to touch Jared, long fingers curling around Jared’s bicep, hips brushing in the press of people, elbows jostling. He keeps looking up at Jared through those damn mile long eyelashes of his, and Jared? Jared is eating it up with a spoon. Jared is draped all over Misha like he’s Jensen at a premiere party and something vicious and ugly twists in Jensen’s gut when he makes that connection. 

The chick from the bank says, “Let’s play Spin the Bottle,” and Jared laughs and so does Misha and Jensen can’t watch anymore. He plants himself behind the kitchen counter and resolves not to look at anything but the bottom of a beer bottle until he can clear his head.

Because he’s a douchebag of the highest order, Chad thinks this is the perfect time to strike up a conversation with Jensen. Why he’s not sticking his tongue down someone’s throat with the rest of them, Jensen doesn’t know, but he bets venereal disease has something to do with it.

“Jared stop putting out?” Chad asks and burps in Jensen’s face.

“No. Wait. What?”

Chad nods at Misha who is currently spinning the bottle. “I think you’ve been thrown over, dude.”

As if in slow motion, the bottle rolls to a stop pointing straight at Jared. Jared shrugs and leans into the circle, his hand curling around the back of Misha’s neck, and Jensen stands so abruptly that his little pyramid of Red Stripes crashes to the floor in a spectacular display of shattering glass.

Everyone freezes, looking at Jensen. His boots crunching on the broken bottles seems like the only sound in the whole place even though Jensen knows the Pixies are still blaring on the stereo.

“Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” Jensen says politely to a spot directly over Jared’s left shoulder and doesn’t wait to see if Jared will follow.

He does.

Jensen backs Jared into a corner of the garage and up against the wall. “Don’t you ever,” Jensen says. “Don’t you ever do that again, Jared Padalecki,” and then he reaches up and pulls Jared’s head down and kisses him.

The kiss starts out angry—one of Jensen’s hands fisted in Jared’s hair, the other pressing Jared back into the bricks as hard as he can. Jared’s heartbeat races under Jensen’s fingers. Jensen wants Jared to really feel this kiss—Jensen’s tongue licking into his mouth, Jensen’s teeth sharp on his bottom lip, Jensen’s stubble on his throat. I will make you feel this, Jensen thinks and bites into Jared’s shoulder, sucks up a red mark to let him know this is real.

“God, Jensen,” Jared moans, threading his thumbs into Jensen’s belt loops and yanking Jensen even closer. “We should’ve been doing this years ago.” 

Jensen agrees. He would have said as much or maybe just stuck his hand down Jared’s pants except that Chad turns the water hose on and soaks them both thoroughly. “Get your asses back inside before somebody figures out what you’re doing. Genny thinks Jensen’s on some kind of shame spiral and Julie thinks he’s an alcoholic, so you should be safe if you play up your natural patheticness, Ackles.” 

Jensen wrings the water, _icy_ water, from his shirt. “Was this really necessary, Murray?”

“Are you kidding me? Your boners were visible from space. Now turn up your collar, Jay-Red, and let’s party.” He claps Jared on the back. “And now it’s time for the CMM to get touched by an angel. Sit back and take notes, boys.”

Jensen guesses the party is a success. He vaguely remembers Chad sucking face with Misha behind the bookshelves and bank chick taking her top off and asking him to sign her boobs. Jensen can’t remember if he did or not. What he does remember is that after everyone is gone and the kitchen is swept and the beer bottles are thrown in the recycling, Jared takes him back to his room and unbuttons Jensen’s flannel shirt so slowly that Jensen can barely breathe. Jared licks his way up and down Jensen’s chest, across the sensitive bud of a nipple, along the frets of his ribs, and down to his navel. Jensen's breath hitches when Jared drags his thumb over the tip of Jensen's cock, when he swallows Jensen down, when he spreads open Jensen's ass cheeks and tongues inside. Jared falls asleep with his face mashed into Jensen’s shoulder blades and his pinkie under the waistband of Jensen’s boxers. This is what Jensen remembers.

Months later, Jensen still thinks Jared is pretty much a dick. He hogs the covers and he gets up to pee eleventy million times in the middle of the night and he tries to kiss Jensen in the morning before he brushes his teeth. Yeah, Jensen thinks and spoons up closer behind him. Jared’s a complete jerk.


End file.
